


Clearing the Air

by Kendrickhier



Series: Of Forgiveness and Restoration [2]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anger, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, death mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 17:08:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15369294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kendrickhier/pseuds/Kendrickhier
Summary: Following the 3x20 acting rewrite, Alura and Kara have that much-needed talk about Kara's feelings; her anger, her hurt, all of which Alura is responsible for.Beware: Many emotions up ahead.





	Clearing the Air

Alura is holding onto the kitchen utensil with much more force than necessary. It’s not difficult to remember the extraordinary strength she’d possessed under Earth’s yellow star like this, channeling her inner turmoil into her grip. Thank Rao for the material’s resilience, she’d surely snapped the thing in half otherwise; she wants to keep this conflict hidden from Kara, who is watching her from the stool at the counter. 

Things had been wonderful with her daughter thus far, but that is precisely what worries her. It’d been _too_ wonderful. Alura hasn’t been able to shake the feeling Kara’s holding back her true emotions ever since their first talk right here on Argo—especially after Kara insisted on coming with her to Argo, when she’d promised to return—and it created a certain tension in the air.

It had been less noticeable at first, Kara having a clear objective in mind in retrieving a piece of Harun-El—or the black rock of Yuda Kal, as they knew it. That was followed by stopping a literal apocalypse from happening on Earth, fighting the Worldkillers. But now after returning to Argo for their trials, a simple portal trip and moment of settling into the house later, nothing was more obvious to Alura. The silence was supposed to be comfortable, but the near-inevitability of Kara repressing her emotions weighs heavily on her.

She can’t change the past, but she can at least make sure she won’t suffer more if it’s avoidable. Even if that means enduring Kara’s anger, or even hatred.

“Why did you join me here?” Alura asks, careful to keep her attention on the food in front of her rather than Kara, trying to sound almost nonchalant. Like it hasn’t been eating at her. Like it’s simple small-talk. “Surely you remember how these urgent trials can go. They are swift, but require my full attention, as there is much to be done.”

“Because I want to spend time with you. We’ve been apart for about 40 years, we’ve already missed so much,” comes the answer, much too quickly. “Plus, it’s been ages since I got to see you in action.”

Momentarily, Alura gets distracted by the pleasant memories that calls forth. She knows the answer isn’t the whole truth, but Kara makes a good and inarguable point. “You witnessed a considerable amount of trials when you were little. Do you remember?”

There’s a creak behind her that indicates movement on the stool, and she can just picture Kara’s smile as she practically sighs out an “Of course. I remember sitting in _ukr_ ’s lap so I could hide in his chest if I was frightened, but I never was. It was kinda comforting actually, seeing you judge those criminals.”

A surge of pride makes its way into her heart and Alura smiles upon hearing that. Kara may have taken to the sciences more, as the codex had intended, but there was an unmistakable righteousness she held onto. “Justice has always been in your blood.”

“It wasn’t about justice. It was like…” There’s a pause and another creak of the stool, shortly followed by a soft thud of elbows onto the counter. “It was like you were protecting us. All of us.” Another pause, before a sigh can be heard. “You were my hero.”

Her tone carries a melancholy that Alura hadn’t been prepared for, sparking a pang inside of her that makes her smile drop, and her hand stills. Though she’d intended for this shift in their conversation, she hadn’t expected Kara herself to be the cause of it. “Were?”

“Aunt Astra told me about what happened,” Kara starts, and Alura has to close her eyes. If she were to turn around she’s certain she’ll either find accusatory anger or a desperate plea to understand in her eyes. “You sentenced her to Fort Rozz, for life. How could you do that?”

Turns out it’s the anger _and_ the desperation, if her voice is anything to go by.

It was naïve of her to think she wouldn’t get confronted about her greatest mistake. Just because Astra didn’t get the chance to yell at her in person didn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things; of course she’d told Kara what happened, and of course Kara would be understandably upset on her behalf. Astra had just been doing what she thought was necessary, much like Alura herself.

Composing herself, she continues stirring the pot before, essentially, reciting her thought process at the time. “She was going to enslave our people, Kara. I could not let that happen. I gave her a chance. Her sentence could have been commuted if she’d cooperated, but she was stubborn. There was nothing more I could do for her, she was a wanted criminal.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

Alura does know it, but still it hurts to hear it from Kara. She knows it now, after thinking on it for decades, every single day, with a reasonable amount of regret. But this isn’t about her, Alura has to remind herself; this is about Kara and allowing her to sort through her feelings.

“You could have let her escape, you could have helped her if only to keep an eye on her, there was plenty you could have done. But you chose to arrest her, after luring her here through me!” Arms fly up in Kara’s outrage to emphasize the latter point, and even if Alura can’t see it, she sure can hear the dual smacks of hands hitting a solid surface.

It’s no longer about Astra, and it once again hurts Alura to hear.

She lets go of the utensil this time, in favor of turning to her daughter with a pained expression. That only intensifies when she sees Kara’s face now, really sees the anger and a touch of… helplessness? “Is that what you think?” Alura asks, her voice soft, tinged with sadness. “You think I used you to get to her? On purpose?”

“Didn’t you?!”

“I-…” Alura so badly wants to tell her that she didn’t do it on purpose, didn’t use her daughter for what might as well be considered personal interest. But she won’t lie, and she’s long since learned to acknowledge and take responsibility for her mistakes. “I did.”

Kara gapes at her in shock, a familiar look of betrayal on her face.

Maybe she didn’t expect the answer to be ‘yes’.

Or maybe she just had hope it wouldn’t be. A hope that is now crushed.

Alura quickly continues to explain herself, to soften the blow, hands clasped tightly in front of her. “I didn’t intend it that way, not at first. Yes, I suggested you message her with the beacon, knowing she’d respond to it. However, I did not suggest it so I could arrest her. I would be lying if I said I didn’t intend to talk to her, that I did. I had hope I could convince her stop even when I suggested it to you, but… I didn’t think of what would happen if she didn’t listen, not until much later when you were long asleep. The arrest was a backup plan I thought was a necessary precaution.”

“Oh, so you didn’t _start out_ with that intention, but then planned for it anyway.” Kara shakes her head as she moves to lean back, away from her, with an expression so similar to Astra back then, it shakes Alura to her core. It’s more than just hurt, there’s a touch of what almost looks like disgust to it. “That’s supposed to make it all okay?”

“No,” she replies immediately, because it’s not. She’s clearly hurt her daughter by her actions as much as she’s hurt her sister, perhaps even more as she’d been completely innocent in this situation. She won’t make excuses. “What I did… Kara, no, I never meant to involve you in this, and it’s not okay that I did. I should have known better. I should have _done_ better.”

“You should have. You should have held onto that hope.”

It feels like a well-deserved slap in the face. Kara gets up from her stool and promptly turns around to walk away, which feels like another. Tears well up in Alura’s eyes, feeling like she’s really messed things up beyond forgiveness this time. If only she hadn’t prodded Kara and let her stew on her feelings; she wouldn’t be walking away from her then, presumably to leave her behind for good this time. Abandoning her like she once had her daughter. Losing her mother all over again because Alura just had to—

Kara stops in her tracks like she’s remembered something—effectively stopping Alura’s train of thought—and spins around, shouting, “Great Rao, I can’t believe you!” She stalks forward as she continues, and every step in her direction feels like an accusation. “None of this would have happened if you’d just had faith. Aunt Astra, she might still have been alive if you’d have faith in her. And me, you sent _me_ away, because you didn’t believe in our scientists!”

Her back bumps against the counter, and Alura’s hardly noticed she’d started backing away from Kara as she’d been advancing. She doesn’t bother wiping her tears, instead gripping her hands more tightly in a last ditch effort to keep some kind of composure. “You would have died if they’d failed.” Her throat is tight and it’s difficult to get the words out. She has to take a breath before she can continue speaking. “I couldn’t let you die, I wanted you to have your best chance.”

“Did you want _me_ to have my best chance, or did you want Kal-El to have _his_?” comes the justified response. “You sent me away to a strange planet. Not just on my own, but in charge of an infant. I was a child myself! Does that sound like my best chance to you?”

It does not, and Alura squeezes her hands even tighter, until they are visibly losing color.

“And that’s not even what happened.” Kara throws up her arms once again as she says this, scoffing, and turning to pace back and forth. “What really happened is I got stuck in the Phantom Zone for 24 years, and by the time I got to Earth Kal-El was already fully grown and saving humans. He was the one that made sure I got a home with the Danvers. Do you know what that’s like, mom? To be separated from everything you’ve ever known, everyone you’ve ever loved, and then—after staring into miles of pitch-black space for decades—not even being able to fulfill the entire reason you had to go through all of that in the first place? Cause it sucked. A lot.”

There’s a pause, Kara’s back turned towards her, in which her heart aches for her daughter so much she is certain she will succumb to a broken heart. Her daughter is so strong, has been through so much she couldn’t protect her from, so much suffering Alura herself set in motion… How could Kara ever stand to look at her again?

“So yes, I could have died on Krypton. But at least we would have died together.” She sounds tired, drained of her anger, but more prominently she sounds hurt. A hurt Alura has no right to take away, but wants to with every fiber of her soul if Kara would let her. And then, then Kara turns around, towards her, and there are tears in her eyes too. “I just….” Kara chokes up before she can finish her sentence, and _more_ tears fill her eyes and continue to overflow. “I just missed you so much. You, and dad, and aunt Astra, and aunt Lara and uncle Jor-El…”

Alura cracks. Seeing her daughter like this, broken down and a mess of tears and sobs, the list of family members coming out so tearfully it’s like the tears themselves have seeped into her words, she can’t just stand there any longer. “Oh Kara, my darling daughter…” It comes out in a sob, and all excuses as to why she shouldn’t be comforting Kara go right out the window as she moves forwards to wrap her up in her arms.

Kara doesn’t resist.

She allows it.

She _embraces_ it, as surely as Alura embraces her, as surely as she embraces Alura right back, clinging to her mother as she hasn’t been able to in decades.

“I am so sorry, my dear Kara, so sorry. Words could never convey how much.”

The words only serve to make Kara cry harder, sobbing into Alura’s chest.

She tries her best to comfort her daughter, rubbing soothing circles on her back as well as she is able to with her own sobbing, murmuring apologies and soothing sentiments, some less intelligible than others, but all meant as genuinely as the last. They stand there for what might as well be an eternity, neither of them knowing how long exactly, neither of them caring as they draw comfort from each other in their own way.

Eventually, when the sobs die down to softer, more controlled choked up noises, Kara speaks. It’s soft, practically a whisper, her voice hoarse from crying, made even less audible from being said into her shoulder, but it’s spoken nonetheless. “< _I love you_ ,>” she says in their native tongue. Alura can just barely make it out, but it warms her heart in a way she hadn’t expected either.

It feels a lot like forgiveness.

“< _I love you too, Kara, >_” Alura whispers back, “< _So very much. >_”

**Author's Note:**

> There. Isn't that much better, with a clear air and Kara actually having her mother? This was fulfilling a request of someone else as it was fulfilling my own request for this. Let's be real: canon would never.
> 
> (Again. Astra isn't dead, you two. They'll find out, they've got these trials to tend to, but then...  
> Then it's time.)


End file.
